


slowly away

by playedwright



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Healing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reunions, Strained Relationships, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: “It’s getting cold, Rich,” he says quietly. He looks down at his socked feet and doesn’t look back up. “You should get home before it gets worse.”Richie’s pause is so loud it nearly suffocates Eddie. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet when he says, “I don’t think it can get any worse.”*or, years after a fight that ruined everything, everyone gets a second chance
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 183





	1. a town must live, must have its acre of normality

**Author's Note:**

> not me starting a new chaptered fic when i have at least four other projects i should be focusing on. couldn't be me.
> 
> this is going to have. multiple layered arcs and two converging timelines so . uh. BEAR WITH ME but. i offer you the first chapter. tomorrow? who knows...
> 
> title and chapter titles come from the poem ["from crossing the line"](http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/rg_gregory/poems/22128) by rg gregory
> 
> thank u [jaise](https://twitter.com/crybabytozier) for proofreading and making this coherent <3

_ 2009 _

Tucked away behind a small section of the Rockies, the lake town that Eddie Kaspbrak calls home wakes up when summer begins to hint it's around the corner. It’s a little city, small enough that it would be covered by the width of a thumb on a map if you cared enough to try and find it. The entirety of it is one street, starting with the gas station at the top of the road and ending with the lone school building. Though most of its residents claim that fall is the best time of year for their town, it’s the summertime that calls to travelers from all over, with fresh mountain air and a picturesque, clear blue lake making for a great vacation getaway. For Eddie, it’s just roots in the ground. 

He’s lived here for long enough that he’s established a routine, though if you ask the other locals they’ll likely say he hasn’t lived here for long. Most of them have been here for generations. Eddie won’t ever shake his status as the new guy. Regardless, he’s settled into life. He wakes up each morning with the sunrise. During spring and summer, he enjoys the sunrise from his spot knee-deep in the garden. In fall and winter, he watches the sun rise over the lake from the shoddy window of his house with a warm cup of coffee in his hands.

It’s summer now, just barely. Eddie sits back where he is kneeling and wipes a hand across his sweaty brow. Sunlight glimmers in the lake in front of him. The morning chill hasn’t quite left the air. Eddie pulls his jacket tighter around him and finishes picking raspberries from their bushels.

Peggy finds him while he’s pulling weeds from the tomato plants, always the most impatient. She tugs on his jacket to make her presence known. Eddie shakes his head and sits back and looks at her. “We do this every morning, Pegs, haven’t you learned yet that your time is coming?”

She cocks her head at him expectantly.

Eddie sighs. “Alright, alright. Let’s go get you and your sisters fed.”

Peggy follows hot on his heels as he walks back towards the house. Eddie puts his harvest basket on the porch and grabs the feed before making his way to the coop. Peggy clucks excitedly and runs forward. The rest of the girls start to gather as well. He refills the feeder with the seed and checks their water. While the girls set to eating what they can out of the feeder, Eddie goes to the coops and collects the eggs.

He takes the fresh eggs inside and places them on the counter, along with his harvest basket from the garden. There’s a scraps bucket that he picks up and takes outside. Peggy and Florence abandon the feeder as soon as they see him coming back, happy to pick at the kitchen scraps he throws down in the coop for them. Florence butts her head against his leg and he scratches it idly before heading back inside.

The town is just waking up by the time Eddie gets in his car and starts the engine. In the passenger seat is the haul from his garden today, filled with greens and garlic and eggs and a bowl full of raspberries. He picks at the berries as he drives through town. The sun is bright in the sky now, no longer obscured by the mountains that surround the town. Gone is the early morning chill. Eddie sheds his jacket and rolls his window down. 

Lettuce and spinach get dropped off at the diner, asparagus and artichokes and onions to the grocer, spoiled crops to Eddie’s neighbor down the street who makes compost. He waves back to the people he passes who wave to him. He writes down the address of the grocer’s grandmother and promises he’ll stop by to fix her air conditioner. He stops and orders two iced teas from the drive thru before continuing on to his last stop of the morning.

“Oh, you idiot boy, you do this every morning,” Esther grumbles, when he knocks on her door and greets her holding his nearly empty basket and both iced teas in his hands. Both hands on her hips, she sighs dramatically before stepping to the side and letting him in. “I just want the garlic and the berries, you don’t need to fatten me up with iced tea as well.”

“It’s not to fatten you up, Esther,” Eddie says, same as he does every morning that he visits. He stoops down so she can pat his cheek as he walks in. “It’s to bribe you so you feed me. Fatten  _ me  _ up. You know I don’t eat breakfast unless it comes from your kitchen.”

“Smartass,” Esther says, but she takes the iced tea anyway and leads him into the kitchen. “I’m making muffins. Tell me you brought me those berries so I can add ‘em in.”

“I brought the berries,” Eddie says sagely, and he pulls the bowl out of the basket and hands it to her. Esther sets to work. “Getting a good batch this year. Adding a few more bushels was a good idea.”

Esther hums while she mixes the batter. “I told you they would be.”

He’s been in Esther’s kitchen enough times that he knows where everything goes, so while she is making their breakfast, he puts away the garlic and asparagus and adds the fresh eggs to her basket in the fridge. “My daughter is coming to town,” Esther tells him conversationally.

  
Eddie whirls around. “What?!”

There’s a timid smile on Esther’s face. “Remember a few months ago when you told me I should write her a letter to apologize?”

“And you told me to mind my p’s and q’s?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow. Esther shoots him an apologetic look before her focus is back on pouring batter into the muffin pan.

“You were right,” she tells him, in her grumbly reluctant voice. “I sent a letter that same week. A few weeks ago, I got a letter back. She gave me her phone number. We chatted on the phone for a short little while.”

Eddie closes the refrigerator door and takes a seat on a stool. “Esther, that’s great.”

“She got married,” Esther goes on. Her voice is tight. She picks up the muffin pan and turns rapidly to face the oven. “Sounds like a lovely gentleman. She’s head over heels for him. From what I can tell, the fellow might love her even more than she loves him.”

“That’s a good thing,” Eddie says carefully. “You want Trish to be happy.”

Esther closes the oven door and sets the egg timer on top of the oven. She doesn’t turn around for a long while. “I do,” she finally concedes. She turns slowly and wipes her hands on her apron. “All I want is for Trish to be happy. Guess it’s just barely setting in that my baby girl went and got married and I didn’t get to go to the wedding.”

Eddie fiddles with the newspaper on the counter, dog-earing and edge of it then smoothing it back over with his thumb. “Take it from someone who would just throw it away if he received a letter from his estranged mother,” Eddie murmurs. “The fact that she wrote back is a good sign. The fact that she’s coming to town is… That’s a  _ good  _ sign.”

Esther’s expression twists. “Eddie.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “You and Trish can come back from your past. That’s why she’s coming to visit. That’s  _ good.  _ When does she get in?”

Esther looks him up and down, quiet for a moment. Eventually she steps away from the oven and sits at the stool next to him. She takes his hand in hers. There’s no mistaking the excitement in her voice when she says, “Today.”

“ _ Today _ ?” Eddie yelps. “Esther! How long have you known she’s coming to visit?”

“A week or two,” Esther says innocently. Eddie withdraws his hand with a sharp scoff, making her laugh. “Oh, stop your whining. I’ll burn your muffins.”

Eddie narrows his eyes.

“Okay, I wouldn’t burn your muffins,” Esther concedes. “But you can still stop whining. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

“I already have wrinkles,” Eddie grumbles. He rubs at his forehead and whines again when Esther swats at his hands. She takes care of him in more ways than he can begin to explain.

The egg timer goes off, and before Esther can get up Eddie stands and moves towards the oven, grabbing the mitt off the counter. He silences the timer as Esther says, “You know I’m perfectly capable of handling things in my own damn house myself.”

“I can help,” Eddie says stubbornly. He opens the oven and sticks a toothpick in one of the muffins. It doesn’t come out clean, so he closes the door and sets the egg timer for another two minutes. “Least I can do.”

Esther narrows her eyes at him. “Idiot boy,” she says again. It’s a term of endearment and it never fails to make Eddie smile. “You know, there actually is something you can do to help me. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Esther, you know I’d do anything for you,” Eddie says seriously.

“Down, boy, I’m an old woman and you’re far too spry for me,” Esther says. She points at him to accentuate her point. It would be funny even if Esther didn’t already know that Eddie’s gay. “But. I would appreciate a ride somewhere.”

Eddie leans against the oven and, still wearing the oven mitt, crosses his arms. “I’ve already told you I’ll drive you wherever you need to go,” he reminds her.

“Great,” Esther says brightly. “I need you to take me to the airport to pick up Trish and her husband. Oh, and they’re bringing a friend, they say he’s very cute. Very funny. I offer him as an incentive.”

“You can’t offer a person as an incentive,” Eddie says exasperatedly. “Esther! Did you tell your daughter you’d pick her up from the airport even though you don’t own a car and your license has been expired for five years? Did you just assume I’d say yes?”

The egg timer goes off again. “I didn’t assume you’d say yes,” Esther tells him. “I knew you would.”

Eddie sighs. He turns off the timer and pulls the muffins out of the oven. They’re perfect, this time. He places them on the counter and starts to pull them out of the pan to cool. “Just how cute is cute?” he asks.

“Does it matter?” Esther says dryly.

Eddie glares at her.

She raises an eyebrow back.

Eddie relents. He picks up a muffin and peels the tin off, picking at a piece and popping it into his mouth. Esther’s cooking is far better than anything he’s ever had before. “Fine, you’re right, it doesn’t matter. When do we need to go?”

Esther glances at the clock. “In the next fifteen minutes?”

“Esther!” Eddie says, exasperated.

She just grins at him in response. 

  
  
  
  


The airport is a two hour drive from the town, and Eddie’s only made the drive twice since he moved here. Once, when he first arrived, hopping in his rental car and driving until he found a place where he knew he could start over. And again, once he’d settled into town and bought a car and a house and a couch and a bed for himself, when he finally returned the rental car.

Still, it’s a straightforward drive through the canyon. It’s a long and windy road. The drive out of town is far less picturesque than the drive in. Still, it’s a nice day. He and Esther spend half of their drive with the windows down, listening to the creek turn over rocks and singing along to whatever CD Esther decides to put in.

She’s a mother to him in many ways his own mother never was, but more than that she’s the best friend he has in this place. They grew together out of necessity, friendly with each other only because they shared sistering plots of land and often ran into each other during their morning walks. Eddie, enjoying the sunrise over the lake before he’d started gardening, and Esther, because it’s what she’s always done. Eventually Esther invited him inside for breakfast, and he invited her over for fried tomatoes. She gave him the idea to start his little garden. He asked her to help him choose the name for the first chicken he brought home. Esther made the town feel homey when he was worried it would feel suffocated, and she didn’t ask questions about his past. She didn’t inquire about why he was running away from the city and his ex wife, or why and who he had run away from before that.

In a town like his, it’s hard not to know the name of everyone who lives there, and it’s something Eddie learned the hard way. But where he had assumed that he would become the town hermit, the one that everyone avoids if they can help it, Esther had seen him and taken him and turned him into someone the town could trust. She’d given him a job, providing people around town with his crops and giving out his number to anyone who might need a repairman. She gave him a reason to stay.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, when they’re about ten minutes out. Esther hums and turns down the radio. “It’s been… years, hasn’t it? Since the last time you saw her?”

“Longer than I care to admit, yes,” Esther says. She fiddles with the rings on her fingers. “I wasn’t a great mother, before she moved away. I did okay before then, but we fought over everything in her teenage years. She wanted things I never understood. Why would you leave this place when it has so much to give you, I asked her. She said there were better things in the world than a dying lake town. She left when she was nineteen. She’s twenty-seven now.”

Eddie thrums his fingers on the steering wheel. “She sounds a lot like me when I was her age,” Eddie says thoughtfully. “I ran away at nineteen, too.”

“You two are going to be great friends,” Esther tells him sagely. “I think she’ll need that. I think she’ll need a friend here. Someone other than me. I imagine she feels just as scared as I do right now.”

“Is she staying with you?”

“No, she and her husband booked a room at the motel,” Esther answers. Eddie can’t pick apart her tone, unsure of how she’s feeling. It grates at his nerves under his skin, feeling like he can’t know how to help. “I suppose that will be better for her, as well.”

Eddie slows the car and flips on the turn signal. He glances at Esther while he waits for his turn. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to her?” he asks.

She levels him with an uncertain look. “What would you want her to say?” Esther asks. “If your mother came back into your life. What would you expect her to say?”

It’s a heavy question. Loaded in ways Eddie can’t articulate. The road clears and he turns onto the main road to the airport. They’re three minutes out. “What I expect her to say and what I want her to say are two entirely different things,” Eddie finally answers.

“I need to apologize,” Esther whispers. Eddie can’t look away from the road, but he knows her eyes are filling with tears. He reaches out until she grabs his hand with her own. “I apologized in the letter, but I’ve got to do it in person too, right? She’ll want an apology.”

Eddie thinks hard about his next response. He wants this to go well.  _ Needs  _ it to go well, for Esther and for himself. So he can see that maybe there’s hope for a second chance. Not for him and his own mother, no—that bridge has long since been burned. But before he ran away from his city life and wife, he’d run away from someone far more important. Someone who Eddie had anticipated would run away first. He’d like to believe there’s a hope for something better there, if he allows himself. A foolish man with foolish hopes.

“I think you start with telling her that you missed her,” Eddie says finally. “And a hug, if she wants one. I’d… want a hug. I’d want an ‘I missed you’. It’s a good start.”

Esther squeezes his hand. He pulls into short term parking and lets go of her hand to put his car into park and turns it off. “You’ve become far too wise, Eddie,” Esther tells him. “I remember when you used to fight anything that breathed on you. So many chips on your shoulders. Now you’re offering calm advice to anyone who will take it.”

“Just you,” Eddie says quickly. “Only you. Don’t tell anyone else, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have that reputation anymore,” Esther tells him sympathetically. She grins at him when he shoots her a suspicious look. “Don’t give me that face! You may have been mysterious and angry when you first drove into town, but now everyone knows you’re the handyman with the chickens and a penchant for eating raspberries.”

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Baby boy, you literally ate four muffins on the way here,” Esther tells him. She lifts the nearly empty tupperware to prove her point. “You’re a great big softie now.”

“I think that you are just trying to put off going inside,” Eddie retorts. He startles, once he realizes what he’s said. “Which is—I mean, it’s okay, if you are. We can take a breather. This is a big step.”

Esther’s eyes well up with tears again, but she doesn’t shed them. Instead she reaches forward and takes one of Eddie’s hands in both of hers. “Thank you,” she tells him gently. “For coming with me. Even if we’re both pretending it’s so you can flirt with my daughter’s cute friend.”

“I’m honored to be here,” Eddie tells her honestly. She pats his hand again, and that’s all there is before they’re getting out of the car and making their way inside.

Esther bounces on the heels of her feet, full of nervous energy that Eddie can only try to imagine himself. She alternates between holding his hand and crossing her arms. He’s half surprised she doesn’t start to pace.

But they only wait for a few minutes before Esther spots a couple walking down the runway, and she grips Eddie’s arm tightly before letting go and running to meet her daughter.

Patricia meets her halfway, pulling her mother into a hug and burying her face in Esther’s shoulder. She’s taller than Esther by a good six inches, but there’s no mistaking their relation. Patricia has her strong nose and hazel eyes. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. She’s beautiful, in all the ways Eddie sees Esther is now and imagines she was when she was younger.

Behind them, the man that Eddie assumes is Trish’s husband steps forward and introduces himself to Esther. He’s a clean-cut man, handsome in a classic way. He wears a cardigan that’s strangely endearing. Esther tugs him into a hug, too.

“This is Eddie,” he hears Esther say, and Eddie takes that as his cue to step forward. “He was kind enough to drive me here. He’s my neighbor and friend.”

“Bit young for you, Mother,” Trish says.

Eddie extends a hand. “Oh, I couldn’t handle Esther even if I tried,” he says easily. “It’s nice to meet you, Trish.”

“It’s Patty,” she corrects, taking his hand. She’s got a good handshake. Firm. Confident. Patty glances at her mom again. “I go by Patty now.”

Esther smiles. “You always did like that name,” she says. “I was really the only one who ever called you Trish.”

Patty drops Eddie’s hand. “Made it special,” she says. Her expression hardens after a moment. “Well. Eddie, it’s very nice to meet you. This is my husband, Stan. It was kind of you to drive my mother here and to pick us up by extension.”

“Where’s your friend?” Esther asks. “Didn’t you mention someone else was joining you?”

“My best friend,” Stan answers. He steps forward and shakes Eddie’s hand, too. “He was right behind us. Probably got distracted at the novelty shop. He has a… thing, I guess you could say, for buying terrible t-shirts every time he travels somewhere.”

Eddie tries to make himself smile. “Sounds like someone I used to know,” he says. He hopes his voice comes off as fond instead of strained.

“Less like someone you used to know,” says a new voice, and it’s like ice down Eddie’s back. “Sounds more like exactly the same someone you used to know.”

Eddie straightens in surprise. It takes him a moment to find his bearings, to remember how his body works, but eventually he gets himself to turn. Stan’s friend stands behind him and Patty, a carry-on bag strung over his shoulder and a delighted, startled grin on his face. He’s broader, now. Just as tall but filled in more. His curls are more tamed. His eyes are exactly the same.

Every nerve in Eddie’s body is exposed. This must be what it’s like, to be a live wire. Eddie’s certain he’s going to catch flame if there’s even a hint of a spark. He’s terrified to move, scared to breathe. All of this could go up in flames in an instant if he doesn’t tread carefully. Eddie’s voice doesn’t sound like his own, as he says, “Hey, Rich.” 


	2. interlude; the rules are not the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u again [jaise](https://twitter.com/crybabytozier) for holding my hand thru the writing of this and helping me make it make sense i owe u my life

_ 1997 _

The winter after they graduate high school, Richie shoots up like a weed, and he appears in Eddie’s lawn often enough he could almost be mistaken for one.

  
They’re both nineteen now, practically the last ones left in this town from their graduating class. Almost everyone else moved out as soon as they could. No teenager who grew up in Derry ever wanted to stay. But Eddie had deferred his first year of college out of state, opting to stay home after his mother took a bad fall. And Richie had planned to follow Eddie, which meant as long as Eddie was stuck here, so was Richie.

It’s unfair, in a lot of ways, that Richie hits a growth spurt four months after their graduation. He’d already been taller than Eddie, but now he’s got an obnoxious five inches that he lords over Eddie every chance he gets. He fills out in the shoulders, too. Eddie watches Richie grow into his looks and wonders why it makes his chest feel so tight.

He supposes it’s because it’s a physical reminder that they’re growing up. They’re getting older. Eventually they’ll move away. Together, at first, but there’s no denying that one day Richie is gonna wake up and decide he needs to go somewhere else. Eddie will drive him to the airport and wave him goodbye. They’ll say they’ll stay in touch, but how often is that the truth? Eddie’s never met any of his mother’s friends from high school. Life goes on.

“Life does not go on, Eds, shut the fuck up,” Richie grumbles, when Eddie finally opens up enough to explain what’s been on his mind. Richie is sprawled across his bed, Eddie perched on the bean bag chair. Both of them are loose from the joint they’ve passed back and forth. “You telling me that every time we said ‘best friends forever’ it was just bullshit? Lying shit.”

Eddie throws a t-shirt that he finds on the floor at Richie’s head. Richie lobs it back lazily. “Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

“Eddie baby, I hate to break it to you, but you’re never getting rid of me,” Richie says. He sits up suddenly and makes sure Eddie is looking at him. Very seriously, he says, “Honestly. I’m not going anywhere. At least until I get into your mom’s pants, then I’ll have achieved my one life’s goal—”

Eddie throws the shirt at him again, followed by another shirt, then one more for good measure. Richie laughs and collects them all in his lap. “I hate you. You’re uninvited to college with me. Fuck you and fuck your stupid jokes, you fucking asshole.”

When Richie tosses a shirt back, Eddie snatches it out of the air before it can hit him in the face. It’s one of Richie’s flannels, probably older than the both of them but soft and worn in. Eddie slides it on and wraps it around him. It’s not terribly cold in Richie’s room, but Maine winter chills are hard to escape.

“Eds, Eddie, chill the fuck out, man,” Richie drawls out. “Frankie says relax.”

“I hate you. You didn’t even know what that song meant until last year.”

Richie grins. “Neither did you, asshole.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “I  _ hate  _ you.”

“No, you don’t,” Richie singsongs. He stretches forward, reaching a gangly arm out until he can flick Eddie’s nose. “Okay, but. To be genuine for a second. You really don’t need to worry about things changing, Eds. I mean, some things are fuckin’ inevitable, or whatever. The inescapable passage of time. But one thing I can guarantee? I’ll always be by your side.”

“You sound like a fucking philosophy major,” Eddie grumbles, but he won’t admit that hearing Richie say it helps a lot.

Richie shrugs. “I mean, I’m saying no to college now, but who knows? One day.”

“Do  _ not  _ become a fucking philosophy major, you’re insufferable enough as is.”

“Oh, because you’re so unique with your major in  _ business  _ and minor in statistics,” Richie snipes. “Real panty dropper there, Eduardo. Ooh, baby, tell me more about your stocks and bonds. I can think of something else you can inflate.”

Against his better judgement, Eddie snorts around a laugh. Richie grins in delight, the way he always does whenever he gets an unrestrained laugh out of Eddie. Like it’s his greatest accomplishment in life.

“Are you thinking about college again, though?” Eddie asks, when both of their giggles subside.

“I mean,” Richie says with a shrug. “Yeah. No. I… It’s weird, right? I mean, I didn’t want to. I haven’t wanted to since, like, what? The ninth grade? I don’t know what the fuck I wanna do with my life. Not worth it wasting money when I don’t know what I’m gonna do with a degree.”

Eddie sits forward. “But you’ve been thinking about it,” he presses, because as much as Richie’s been giving him excuses, he hasn’t actively said no.

In his lap, Richie’s hands wring together. He rubs at the knuckle of his middle finger. An anxious tick he’s had since they were fourteen. Eddie’s not sure what he has to be anxious about. They haven’t kept secrets from each other for as long as they’ve been friends. “Is it totally lame if I’m thinking maybe I want to?”

“Richie,” Eddie says, exasperated. “Shut the fuck up. Is it totally lame, you’re so fucking dense.  _ No,  _ it’s not lame. We’re like, barely adults or whatever. You’re allowed to change your mind about things. That’s, like, the one fucking pro to adulthood, dickwad. Get over yourself.”

“You saying I’m not special for being indecisive?” Richie says with a grin. “You make me feel like the only girl in the world, baby, keep ‘em coming.”

“I’m saying you can do anything you want!” Eddie shouts. “Why do you have to make everything so complicated? I’m trying to support you, asshole!”

Richie’s laugh fills the room, loud and happy and unbothered. “Eddie, Eds, you’re showing more sincerity today than I’ve shown all  _ year.  _ What gives? What’s making you all soft and mushy today, it’s gross.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “You’re a real dick, Richard Tozier.”

“Please full-name me more, it really revs my engine.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Only if you get buried next to me.”

Eddie stands up on wobbly feet. His muscles feel unwound in a way that makes every step deliberate. “I’m leaving,” he announces, and Richie lunges forward and pulls Eddie down onto the bed by his waist. Eddie squawks indignantly but is otherwise powerless to stop it.

“You aren’t going anywhere!” Richie cries gleefully. He’s got his arm tight around Eddie’s middle, both of them now lying on their sides on the bed. Eddie writhes uselessly, and Richie wraps a long leg around Eddie’s to pin him even more. “See? Told ya.”

“You smell like shit,” Eddie gripes.

His heart is pounding in his chest, though, in a way that doesn’t make any sense. Eddie’s entire body feels like nervous energy waiting to burst. Richie hooks his chin over Eddie’s shoulder and presses a sloppy kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

“God, disgusting!” Eddie snaps. His body is on  _ fire.  _ He manages to wriggle out of Richie’s arms and, in a fit of insanity, sits up and swings a leg over Richie’s hips until Richie is pinned to the mattress and staring up at him in shock. Eddie blinks down at him, feeling just as startled. He works hard to swallow around the lump in his throat and say, “Just ‘cause you’re all limbs now doesn’t mean you’re stronger than me, Trashmouth.”

He expects a snarky reply. He expects a flirtatious comment or a deflective statement or a dirty joke. He doesn’t expect Richie to reach up haltingly before his hands rest, gripping Eddie’s biceps tightly. He doesn’t expect Richie’s mouth to open and close in silence as he works around what he wants to say.

Eddie certainly does not expect to lean down and catch himself about halfway, suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge to kiss Richie.

He panics, his head now less than a foot away from Richie’s, and tries to play it off. “Cat got your tongue?” Eddie tries, then immediately wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You been hiding secret muscles from me, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie finally says. “Turning those noodle arms into… uh. Meatballs?”

“Your jokes need work,” Eddie tells him. This is familiar territory. Teasing Richie is familiar territory. Hell,  _ wrestling  _ Richie is familiar territory. Being overcome with a need to kiss him that comes out of absolutely nowhere? That is  _ not  _ familiar territory.

“Oh, but baby, I worked on that one all night,” Richie deadpans. He swallows thickly. For a moment, he won’t meet Eddie’s gaze. “Say, you’re alarmingly good at pinning people down like this though, for real. You got a secret sweetheart I don’t know about?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I have time for a relationship outside of manhandling you into taking care of yourself and dealing with my mother,” Eddie says sarcastically. “Got people lining up the block to take me out. The mommy issues are a big draw. The noodle arms. The neurotic rants.”

“I happen to think your neurotic rants are very cute,” Richie tells him seriously.

“That’s because you have a disease,” Eddie says solemnly.

Richie laughs. Finally, Eddie notes with relief, they’re going back to normal. It’s not weird that he’s straddling Richie right now. It’s not weird that Eddie barely caught himself halfway from kissing Richie. Hell, the more they talk, the more Eddie thinks Richie didn’t even notice. “You got the cure, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“No, it’s terminal,” Eddie sighs. “You’ll be like this forever, until you die young. Everyone will say it’s the cigarettes that killed you.”

“Hey, cigarettes are cool.”

“They quite literally are not.”

Richie grins. “Yeah, yeah, one day I’ll quit cold turkey for you, baby, just you wait and see. How are you feeling?”

Eddie blinks down at him, confused by the question. Panic wells in his throat. For a terrifying moment, he’s certain that Richie knows everything he’s been thinking for the past five minutes. “What do you mean?”

“Eds, did you forget the part an hour and a half ago where we split a joint an hour ago? Jesus, how high are you?” Richie laughs. His arms are still on Eddie’s biceps. Eddie hears static in his brain where he should hear thoughts.

  
“I,” he starts. His voice is rough. He clears his throat. “I, uh. Honestly forgot.”

Richie throws his head back and laughs. He can’t tilt it back far, since he’s already laughing on the mattress, but it’s enough to expose a long line of his neck. The static in Eddie’s head turns to sirens.

He climbs up quickly after that, proud in the way he only wobbles a little. “I want to watch a movie,” he announces. “You have those here, right?”

Richie props himself up on his elbows and looks at Eddie in confusion. Like Eddie’s a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. It’s insane to Eddie that not even twenty minutes ago, they were talking about college. Twenty minutes ago, Eddie’s world wasn’t shifted on its axis.

“Eds, you practically live here, you know we have movies,” Richie says. “What do you want to watch?”

Stupidly, Eddie extends his hand and wiggles his fingers until Richie reaches forward and grabs on. His hand is warm in Eddie’s. Calloused from god knows what. Familiar in more ways than Eddie has ever allowed himself to think of. Eddie pulls Richie up out of bed and tugs him towards the door.

“You pick,” Eddie says dumbly.

Neither of them let go of each other’s hand.

  
_ Oh,  _ Eddie thinks to himself, and it’s his last coherent thought until he’s back at his own home, in his own bed hours later, staring up at a ceiling he’s known his whole life. Then he thinks to himself,  _ I am so fucked. _


	3. the sun moves off as we do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS THANK YOU [JAISE](https://twitter.com/crybabytozier) FOR MAKING THIS MAKE SENSE AND THANK YOU [LORE](https://twitter.com/chernobrough) FOR TELLING ME TO DO THE THING

_2009_

The car ride back home is awkward in all the ways Eddie had expected it to be, and worse in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He’s not sure if Stan is an angel sent from heaven or just a guy who is too intuitive for his own good, but as they stand around Eddie’s car debating how to fit in, Stan slides into the passenger seat without hesitation, forcing Richie to pile in the back with Patty and Esther.

Esther, on her part, seems to absolutely adore Richie. It grates on Eddie’s nerves more than it should. She asks him as many questions as she asks Patty, meaning that his voice fills Eddie’s car for the majority of the ride.

It’s painfully familiar and unknown all at the same time. The ghost of a voice he knew since childhood. The way he pronounces his vowels is still the same. The way he draws out words when he’s not sure what he wants to say is still the same. But his voice is deeper. Warm, honeyed. His laugh is different. More restrained. Still contagious.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” Stan asks. Eddie isn’t sure if Stan is oblivious to his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel or all too aware of it, asking because he knows Eddie needs the distraction. Eddie rubs his thumb anxiously against the wheel.

“No, I moved here a few years ago,” Eddie answers. He tries his damnedest not to glance back at Richie as he talks.

Stan nods. “What drew you out here?”

Eddie tenses. He can’t help himself from looking in the rearview mirror now. Richie’s eyes are already boring into him, evidently just as curious as Stan. Eddie clears his throat and looks away. “I was travelling for the hell of it,” Eddie says, though he knows it sounds nothing like him. If Richie remembers anything about how Eddie used to be, he’ll know Eddie’s lying right off the bat. “Got off a plane, rented a car, and drove until I found a place that caught my eye. I stayed at the motel until I realized I really wasn’t going anywhere else, then I bought the house next to Esther’s.”

“Never would have pegged you as a small-town guy,” Richie notes. Eddie can’t even look him in the eye.

“I still can’t believe you guys went to the same high school,” Patty gushes. “Such a small world. Did you guys know each other well?”

Eddie thinks he might be sick. He feels hysterical with it, on the verge of laughter though nothing about this is funny. The spirit of nineteen-year-old Richie Tozier must pass through him, because it takes everything he has inside himself not to giddily shout, _oh, we most certainly KNEW each other well, isn’t that right, Richie?_

“We were friends,” Richie says calmly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s relieved or hurt. They were friends. Best friends. Each other’s first everything. At least, first everything that mattered. Reduced down to a measly _we were friends_ that seems barely even sincere.

But what does Eddie want him to say? Does he want Richie to go into the intimate details about how their friendship crossed a line when they were teenagers that neither of them could recover from? Does he want Richie to confess his undying love right here in this car? Would it make a difference if he did?

“You were?” Stan asks in surprise.

Eddie glances in the rearview mirror again. Richie catches his gaze. It bothers Eddie that they’re no longer familiar enough with one another that he can decipher what Richie is trying to say. He looks away again, before it becomes too much to bear.

“Good friends,” Richie answers. Eddie won’t look, but he can feel Richie’s eyes on him. He used to be able to tell when Richie was looking at him when they were younger. It seems that never went away.

Eddie clears his throat again and knocks a knuckle against the dashboard. “This is my favorite part of the drive,” he announces, for nothing else but a reason to get everyone’s eyes off of him. Esther and Patty, they’ve seen it before. It’s still something they all hold their breath for.

The final stretch of road that leads into town takes them up a slight hill, the view obscured by the curve of the mountain. It isn’t a dramatic curve, relatively tame compared to the other winds in the road, but as the car rounds the road, the canyon opens up and the great expanse of the clear blue lake fills the line of sight. The sun is well into the sky by this point, glistening the water and showing the town in it’s full glory.

“Holy shit,” Richie and Stan say in unison. Eddie smiles to himself. It’s the exact thing he’d said to himself when he’d first made this drive, too.

“This is where you live?” Richie asks wondrously.

“Yeah.”

Patty sighs wistfully. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to admit that I missed that view.”

Richie has a hand pressed to the window, face almost smashed against it as he takes it in. He says approvingly, “I’d give my left nut to look at that view every day.”

“Richie,” Stan snaps, horrified, at the exact moment that Eddie habitually says, “Beep _beep,_ asshole.”

He freezes as soon as the words leave his mouth. The car is quiet for a moment. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just for a second, and swears internally with as much force as he can.

“Jesus Christ,” Richie says with a laugh, breaking the quiet air in the car. “It’s been about a million years since I heard that. Built in shut up button, right? God, how did that even start, do you remember?”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “It was an inside joke,” he mutters.

Richie physically flinches.

“That’s cool,” Stan says suddenly. He sits forward in his seat and points to a rickety old white building as they pass, separated by half a mile from where the town begins. “What is that? Anything?”

“Town’s oldest movie theater,” Esther answers. “Hasn’t been in use for years, since they built the cineplex. They tried to stay open, showing older films for a while, but you know how things go. Some things just… fade into the background.”

“Tell me about it,” Richie mutters.

Eddie tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

“Think they’re used to be an arcade in there, too,” Esther muses. “Isn’t that something? Time goes on. Things change. Sometimes you don’t even realize it.”

“That used to be Mern’s gas station,” Patty says, pointing as they pass. “He’d make every customer a shake when they stopped in. Even if they were just there for gas. He used to try and set up playdates between me and his granddaughter. Do you remember that, Ma?”

“Mern’s granddaughter was six years older than you,” Esther muses. “Poor old man didn’t realize that no sixteen year old wanted to hang out with a ten year old.”

Patty hums. “He was a good man.”

“When I first moved here, that racetrack was a pizza place,” Eddie points out. “Terrible pizza. Literally, the worst pizza I ever had in my life. And that’s saying something.”

“You’re just saying that because you got used to New York pizza,” Richie teases. He seems to catch himself, physically halting and blinking in surprise. “Whoa. Shit. I mean. Did you… even end up going to New York?”

Eddie simultaneously feels as though he’s going to dissolve into his seat and burst into flames. This kills him, this facade they’re playing, Richie’s familiarity and ease and _comfort_ like nothing fucking happened. Like they’re fine, and like this is _fun_ for him. This time, when his gaze snaps back to Richie, there’s no mistaking the anger in Eddie’s own expression. “Yeah. I did.”

“Whoa,” Patty whispers.

Richie looks at Eddie now, like he knows Eddie’s anger is justified. The fucker has the audacity to look _wounded._ Eddie’s nostrils flare and he refocuses his attention on the road. He takes his next right turn just a little too sharply.

“Did you redo the deck?” Patty asks, breaking the silence as Eddie pulls into Esther’s driveway. His chickens have wandered onto her lawn, and go scattering when they hear the gravel crunching under the tires.

“Eddie did,” Esther says proudly. “Doesn’t it look nice?”

“Definitely looks like it’s not going to fall apart if anyone stands on it too long,” Patty says. “It looks great, Eddie! Are you a contractor?”

Eddie shrugs. He puts the car into park, and everyone starts clambering out with collective groans. Richie rubs mindlessly at his thigh, likely working out a muscle cramp. He’d get those, on road trips they took together. Sitting too much in a cramped car, long legs folded at uncomfortable angles to accommodate the space. “I’m a little bit of everything,” Eddie answers Patty. “Contracter. Framer. Mechanic. Plumber. Electrician. You pick up a lot of skills when the town needs you to.”

Behind him, Richie starts coughing suddenly. Eddie turns in alarm. Richie waves him away with a dismissive hand.

“You forget how to breathe again, Trashmouth?” Stan asks. Once he’s pulled their bags out of the truck, Patty takes one from him and slings it over her shoulder before her hand slips in his. He kisses her nose absentmindedly.

“Fuck off, Staniel,” Richie mutters.

“Town handyman,” Patty muses. “You’ll always have business, at least.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Between running around town fixing things, and managing the garden and the chickens, I’ve got a pretty busy life here.”

“You have chickens?” Richie chokes out.

As though she’d been personally summoned, Peggy comes swanning over at that moment. She clucks loudly and pecks at Eddie’s feet, and then makes an affronted noise when he shoos her away. “Yeah,” Eddie says with a smile. Peggy tries to peck at him again before he shifts his foot and she takes off. “Idiot girls. I love them so much.”

“They’re spoiled as fuck,” Esther says.

Patty lets out a startled laugh. “I see your potty mouth has just gotten worse with age, Mother.”

“One might argue my potty mouth has gotten better with age,” Esther says easily. “I have picked up a few new tricks. Courtesy of Eddie, of course.”

Eddie scoffs.

“You teaching my mother swear words, Kaspbrak?” Patty asks with a grin.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says, upturning his nose. “I’ve never sworn a day in my life. I am the epitome of grace.”

Richie lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Don’t let him fool you, Eds was the only kid in my grade who could rival my trash mouth, and he could spitfire swear words at you at a hundred miles a minute. He definitely taught me a thing or two.”

“Eds?” Stan repeats. There’s something in his expression that flickers like understanding. Eddie’s struck by his own realization that it’s entirely possible Richie talked about him to Stan. And god, what would Richie even have to say about him?

“Old nickname,” Eddie says quickly. “If you can even call it that. I hated it.”

Richie looks at him. Eddie looks back. “It grew on you,” Richie says. “Eventually.”

“No. You grew on me. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” Richie asks. There’s a question hidden somewhere in his tone that Eddie can’t find the answer to. It wouldn’t be worth it to even look, he thinks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says curtly, after a beat. He takes an aborted step backwards, towards his house. “I should, um. I should go check on the girls. Make sure they haven’t wandered into the lake or anything. I’ll swing by later, I can give you guys a ride to the motel, if you want, but. I’ll. I’ll let you guys catch up now.”

Esther reaches out and tugs him into a hug before he can go, thanking him under her breath for being there for her. He squeezes her back tightly. Patty gives him a hug, too, and Stan shakes his hand. Then, for one horrifyingly awkward moment, he turns to Richie and wonders what the hell he’ll do.

But Richie shuts down all that uncertainty with an easy extend of his hand. He’s got that stupid, unbothered grin on his face again. Eddie would kill to know what he was thinking. “Good to see you again, Eds.”

“Eddie.”

Richie’s smile doesn’t waver. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Eddie forces himself to smile back. He grasps Richie’s hand like nothing has soured between them in all their years apart. It’s obviously too easy for Richie to pretend they’re fine. So Eddie will do the same. “Neither have you, Rich.”

And hell, that’s the fucking truth. Nothing has changed. Eddie’s the same. Richie’s the same. Richie’s hand wrapped around his is still the fucking same. There are butterflies taking off in Eddie’s gut, like he’s a goddamn nineteen year old kid all over again. He drops Richie’s hand and steps away.

He’s far too aware of eyes on him as he walks across the property lines until he’s home. He doesn’t hyperventilate as he tries to unlock his front door. He doesn’t allow himself to look back at all. But the second the door shuts behind him, he sags against it in exhaustion and sinks to the floor. He brings his knees to his chest and covers his face in his hands. This is simultaneously the oldest and the youngest he’s ever felt.

“Holy fucking shit,” he whispers to himself. Richie Tozier is in his town. Richie Tozier is in the house next door to him. And isn’t that fucking something? Eddie never thought he’d even _see_ Richie again. And today, he held Richie’s hand in his own like no time had passed between them at all. “Jesus. Get it together, Kaspbrak.”

He feels like he’s having a fucking heart attack. Pathetic. _Pathetic._ He’s a grown ass man. It’s been years. So what if he lost his best friend? So what if things change? That’s life. He’s accustomed to things changing. That’s what happens when you uproot your entire life and move across the country on a whim. Things change. People _change._ For god’s sake, Eddie’s changed enough for three people.

He used to be young enough and stupid enough to believe that Richie would always be by his side. He’s not that young and stupid anymore. He just… _feels_ like he is. Like somehow nothing is different and everything is and the weight of that is suffocating.

And at the heart of all of it, he never really got over Richie. Did he?

That’s what all of this has been leading to, right? The underwhelming, undeniable fact that he realized he was in love with Richie twelve years ago and never found the resolve strong enough to pull himself out of it.

Eddie lets his head drop back against the door.

A second later, there’s a knock.

Eddie sits forward and stares at his door in surprise. He’s not certain he didn’t make it up. It dawns on him, though, that he is a thirty-one year old man sitting in a tight ball on the floor inside a house with no lights on, because he couldn’t have been bothered to flip a switch before sinking to the ground. It’s a little bit childish. Hell, he supposes this whole thing has been.

The knock comes again.

Eddie scrambles to his feet and swings the door open. Richie stands on the other side, fist still poised in the air mid knock. He looks startled by Eddie’s sudden appearance. Unsure of himself in a way he hadn’t been during the entire time they were in the car. It’s heartachingly familiar. A Richie who isn’t one hundred percent certain in himself.

“Eds,” Richie says dumbly. He drops his fist and shoves both of his hands in his jean pockets. “Um. Hi.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s a bad opening line,” Richie says, shoulders tensing as he cringes. “Yowza. I’m nervous. Can you believe that?”

“Nervous?” Eddie repeats.

Richie stares at him blankly. “Well. I mean. Yeah. Aren’t you nervous? Jesus, shit, Eds, it’s been, like…”

“Twelve years.”

“Twelve years,” Richie echoes.

Eddie stares at him. “Why did you come over here?”

Richie’s shoulders lift up and down in a halfhearted shrug. His gaze drops to the floor. Eddie wonders how often Richie feels as though he has to play the carefree persona he put on around Stan and Patty today. He wonders how often Richie acts like someone he’s not. Then, almost maniacally, he wonders if he has a right to wonder at all.

“Felt weird being over there,” Richie says. Eddie nods. This, at least, he can understand. Patty and Esther are reuniting after years apart. It’s understandable that Richie wouldn’t want to invade. “You know, knowing you were over here and all.”

Eddie’s brain fills with static. He blinks, confused. “Knowing I was…?”

Richie’s weight shifts from side to side.

“Oh,” Eddie says. “You didn’t come over here to get away from them. You came over here to. To see me.”

“Well, obviously, idiot,” Richie huffs. He finally meets Eddie’s gaze. It’s electrifying. “Why be over there when I could be over here with you?”

Something inside of Eddie finally ignites. It’s not the white hot rage he had anticipated. But it is all-consuming, a fire that starts in his chest and spreads rapidly through his entire body until he can feel it in his fingertips. Warmth and electric and _desperate_ enough that Eddie reaches forward with both hands to grab a fistful of Richie’s shirt and tug him down into a searing kiss.

It’s been twelve years. It’s been no time at all.

And the most glorious part of all? Richie’s hand comes up to cup Eddie’s face, and just like that, Richie’s kissing him _back._


	4. interlude; all atmospheres are inbuilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always i owe [jaise](https://twitter.com/crybabytozier) my life for reading this and making it coherent bc i never make no sense luv <3

_1997_

Eddie, in all honesty, is not surprised to learn that he is gay.

He thinks he’s known for a while. Thinks it makes sense considering his entire history and his aversion to girls and his overwhelmingly strong and embarrassing interest in Hugh Grant movies, among about a thousand other things. So he can’t really say he’s surprised. He can, though, say it comes as a surprise that Richie _fucking_ Tozier is what causes the spiral.

Fucking Riche. _Richie._ Eddie has seen literally every phase of Richie’s growing up, from oversized glasses to braces to acne to too-long limbs. Hand-me-down shirts that went from too big to too small in a matter of weeks. He once saw Richie inhale an entire bag of Doritos and top it off with a liter of Coke just to immediately belch it all back up.

Fucking. Richie.

It’s snowing, a few days later when Richie shows up at his house. The snow and ice mean that Richie’s not brave enough to try and climb the storm drain leading up to Eddie’s window, which means he’s at the front door knocking for the first time in months.

Eddie throws the door open. Richie gives him a sheepish grin from his spot on the front porch. He’s ridiculously bundled up, in a puffy coat so large it rivals anything Eddie owns. His beanie is pulled low over his forehead. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“It’s snowing, idiot,” Eddie says stupidly, like Richie can’t tell by himself.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. He raises an eyebrow. “You scared of a little snow, Eds?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I hate you,” he mutters. They both know he doesn’t mean it. “Come in while I get ready. I gotta go let Ma know, too.”

Richie shuffles inside after Eddie and shuts the door behind him. He’s shaking snow off when Eddie bounds up the stairs and hurries to his room. Once he’s got his boots on and an armful of coat, scarf, and hat, he makes his way to his mother’s room. The door is shut.

She won’t really tell him what’s wrong, but he knows it’s bad. He’s known since a week after his graduation. Since the fall she took, she’s been on bed rest. Stuck in her room, getting and looking sicker and sicker by the second. The doctors give her answers. She doesn’t give them to Eddie.

“Hey, Mom,” he says quietly. He is nineteen-years-old and still must resist the urge to call her _mommy._ He supposes that’s one thing that will never change. Years from now, even long after she’s gone, long after he’s left this place and breathed clean, free air from the first time, he’s still going to be haunted by this.

Sonia turns on her side in bed to face him. She’s half-asleep. It’s the only reason he dares tell her he’s leaving the house at all. He creeps into the room and presses a kiss to her forehead, the way she always did when he was sick. His stomach twists.

“I’ll be back with dinner, alright?” he tells her. She doesn’t respond to him.

And Eddie isn’t an idiot. He knows she’s dying. That this is a serious thing. He doesn’t know if she’ll make it through the winter. He doesn’t know if he wants her to or not.

He doesn’t know if that makes him a bad son.

He slips his coat on as he’s running back down the stairs. The scarf makes his neck itch, so he takes it off before he even reaches the front door. Richie’s still standing in the doorway. He smiles when Eddie reaches him, and takes Eddie’s hat out of his hands.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. Half of the question dies in Eddie’s throat when Richie reaches up and gently puts the hat on Eddie, tugging it down into place.

“All set,” Richie says. He’s got a stupid smile on his face. “Cute, cute, cute, Eds.”

Something warm flares dramatically in Eddie’s chest. He shoves Richie’s hands away before he can do something embarrassing like blush. “You’re so fucking weird,” he mutters. He reaches around Richie to open the front door and shove him outside. “Where are we going?”

Richie falls in line next to him. His legs are longer, but Eddie’s a fast walker, so they keep pace almost too well. Richie shoves his hands in his pockets. “Who says we gotta have a destination?” Richie asks.

Winters in Derry are unforgiving. Snow falls almost constantly for weeks on end. Roads are icy. Temperatures are low. Days are short. There are days that are exceptions to the rule, though. Days where the snowfall is not heavy and overbearing and are instead almost picturesque. The roads have been freshly plowed. The snow crunches under Eddie’s boots.

It’s days like this that Eddie thinks winters in Derry don’t always have to be bad. Hell, it’s practically a metaphor for nearly every aspect of his life. Everything, he thinks, except for Richie.

“Do you remember the winter in between sixth and seventh grade when we tried to go sledding in the Barrens?” Richie asks suddenly. That same stupid grin from earlier is back. “But there wasn’t much of a hill even though we were, like, certain that there was.”

Eddie grins back. “Yeah, you shoved a handful of ice down my shirt and I tackled you and made you eat snow.”

“Still don’t know how you were able to take me down,” Richie gripes. “I mean, we were both scrawny shrimps, but I had, like. Long arms.”

“What, you don’t think I could take you down now?” Eddie asks.

Richie’s laugh is blanketed by the snow. It makes it seem softer, somehow. Kinder. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I know you could. Freakishly strong little freak.”

“Great insult there, really creative.”

“Made you laugh.”

Eddie snorts around another laugh of his own. He shrugs. “Yeah. Guess it did.”

They walk for a bit longer, talking about nothing and anything that crosses their minds. Eddie thinks Richie gets it. He thinks Richie understands the days where Eddie feels so stir crazy and stuck and he thinks Richie knows just what he needs each time.

Richie proves it, not even ten minutes into their walk, when he comes to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls Eddie to a halt, too. He points dramatically to a clearing, the same clearing where an old apartment building used to be before it burned down. The blanket of snow there is fresh and untouched.

“We absolutely have to make snow angels there,” Richie announces.

“What are you, five?” Eddie asks.

“What are _you,_ fifty?” Richie shoots back. “Eds. It’s the perfect place for snow angels. If you pass up this opportunity, we literally cannot be friends anymore. Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious! Eddie! The angels are calling to us.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but when Richie waggles his fingers at Eddie, he’s helpless against resisting and allows his hand to slot against Richie’s. He’s laughing when Richie tugs them both forward. He’s still laughing when they break out into a sprint, and he’s still laughing when they collapse onto a clean patch. Richie’s laugh mingles with his. Eddie closes his eyes and smiles.

He allows himself this. A moment to be childish. In an alternate world, he wouldn’t be here. He and Richie would have left Derry and would be living in some shitty apartment somewhere struggling to pay the rent bill and the electricity bill and to put food on the table. They wouldn’t be laughing and making slow, deliberate moves to perfect their snow angels on the ground. 

And maybe it’s the fact that most days in Derry are so unforgiving they kill any chance at something good before it can even breathe, but today the air has let up enough that the weight on Eddie’s chest doesn’t feel unbearable. Maybe it’s the fact that a week ago, they had a moment where Eddie forgot that there were rules he’s meant to follow. Or maybe, honestly, it’s just the fact that this is Richie, and yes, he has caused Eddie’s big gay panic over the last few days, but it is still _Richie_ and Eddie has grown up next to him. There’s something that, in the midst of all this unforgiveness and uncertainty, feels unwavering.

“Richie,” Eddie says quietly. He sits up and draws his knees to his chest. Richie’s movements slow to a stop until, eventually, he sits up as well.

“All good, Eds?” Richie asks. Eddie realizes with a jolt that he hasn’t tried to correct Richie on the nickname once today, though Eddie’s certain Richie’s used it more times than he can count. And what the hell does that mean? And in all honesty, is it even a fight that Eddie wants to keep putting up?

He squeezes his eyes shut. He wonders if his voice will get carried away on the wind chill. If the winter will decide it will not allow him this, will not allow them this moment where snow falls gently instead of dangerously, will not allow them this brief snippet of time where everything is still and Eddie feels undeniably brave.

“I think I’m gay,” he says all at once, in a breath that comes out of him so viscerally he watches as the words are carried away until they dissolve into the soft, white sky. The snow keeps falling. He realizes, belatedly, waiting for Richie’s response, that his hands are cold. Covered in snow that’s slowly melting from his body heat. He wipes them on his jeans.

“Oh,” Richie says dumbly.

Tears prickle behind Eddie’s eyes. He’s afraid to open them and look at Richie. He breathes out, “Yeah. So, uh. Yeah.”

“Oh,” Richie repeats. Eddie can hear him stand up. The crunch of the snow under Richie’s boots is an all-too-familiar sound. But Richie doesn’t walk away. Instead, he says, “Hey, Eds? Can you look at me?”

Eddie shrinks in on himself a little bit more and shakes his head. Richie puts both his hands on either side of Eddie’s knees.

“Eds,” Richie says softly. Almost pleadingly. His right thumb rubs a reassuring circle underneath Eddie’s kneecap. “Hey. Please?”

Eddie lifts his head, just a little bit, and peeks at Richie out of one eye. Richie’s face breaks out into a soft, happy smile. He’s crouching, not standing, like Eddie had thought. He kneels after another beat.

“There he is,” Richie says. “Heya, Eds.”

“Hi,” Eddie croaks.

“You okay?”

Eddie shrugs.

“That was, like, super cool,” Richie tells him. “Like. You’re so fucking brave, dude.”

“I barely even said anything,” Eddie says with a shrug. He opens both eyes and allows himself an indulgent moment to take in Richie’s easy, familiar expression. “You don’t look mad, so. That’s good.”

Richie startles. “Mad? Why the fuck would I be mad?”

Eddie lets out a huff of air. “I mean. ‘Cause I’m your best friend and I’m a secret homo.”

“Eddie,” Richie says, exasperated. “I’m not mad. I’m fucking. I’m _nervous._ ”

“What the fuck,” Eddie says flatly. “Why would _you_ be nervous?”

Richie sighs. He lets go of one of Eddie’s knees and grabs Eddie’s wrist, tugging his hand forward until it’s pressed over Richie’s heart. Even through layers of clothes, Eddie can feel Richie’s heart pounding in his chest.

“Jesus,” Eddie says. “You’re _nervous,_ nervous.”

“Yeah, idiot,” Richie says.

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s beating just as frantically as Richie’s is. He swallows thickly. Richie’s eyes are huge behind his glasses. Pretty. Familiar. Eddie’s barely aware of the snowfall around them. “Why are you nervous?” he asks again.

Richie blinks. He says, “Idiot,” again, with feeling, before rocking forward on his knees and tentatively kissing Eddie on the lips.

It’s electrifying. It’s terrifying. Eddie is soaring and falling all at once. He is hyper aware of the fact that he is sitting in snow. He’s hyper aware of the fact that Richie is precariously crouched in front of him. He is simultaneously too aware and not aware enough of Richie’s hands on him.

He thinks it’s a good kiss. He hasn’t got much to go on. Richie’s mouth moves against his like he’s afraid. Eddie realizes, after a beat, that he can kiss back. With the hand still pressed to Richie’s chest, he grabs the biggest handful of Richie’s coat that he can to keep Richie close.

“Oh,” Richie murmurs, against his mouth. It comes out almost like a gasp. Their lips make an obscenely wet sound when Richie pulls away. “So. Whoa. So. Is this… I mean. That was okay? This is okay?”

Eddie, stupidly, feels breathless. Over a goddamn kiss that lasted less than a minute. “Does it look like I’m complaining?”

“Shockingly? No.”

“So kiss me again, idiot,” Eddie tells him. And Richie does. And does. And does. Until eventually they can’t pretend they don’t feel the cold. Until Eddie can’t pretend his jeans aren’t practically soaked from sitting in the snow. Richie stands. His knees are wet from where he’d been kneeling. He keeps his hands on Eddie long after he helps Eddie stand up. When Eddie starts to shiver, Richie tugs him closer. They won’t put their arms around each other, not here, but they walk side by side. Warmth radiates between them. They share something, now. Something they hadn’t before. The kind of secret that makes Eddie’s fingertips feel like they’re on fire.

“My house is closer,” Richie says. He’s uncertain, nervous again. He’s got the same look on his face that he had before he kissed Eddie. “We can, uh. Warm up.”

“What a line,” Eddie deadpans. His mouth is tingling. He can’t stop smiling.

Richie’s cheeks are flushed pink. Eddie, graciously, pretends he believes it’s from the cold. “Shut up,” Richie mutters. He ducks his head to try and hide his smile. “Do you want to come to my house or not?”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his smile. He bumps his shoulder against Richie’s. He’s terrified, in all honesty. This is terrain he’s never considered. But it’s Richie. And there’s trust there that Eddie will carry with him for as long as he lives.

“Yeah, you weirdo. Let’s go to your house.”


	5. with its own sick longing for the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)
> 
> ALSO THANK YOU [CAIT](https://twitter.com/edskaspbraking) FOR HOLDING MY HAND THRU THIS AND HELPING ME MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

_ 2009 _

Richie’s hands on Eddie’s body feel just as electric as they did the very first time Richie touched Eddie like this. It’s a little bit different now, because Richie’s hands are larger and clearly more experienced. But his fingers splay against Eddie’s chest and grip Eddie’s hipbones and twine in the collar of Eddie’s shirt. His palms are wider, covering a greater expanse as he touches Eddie wherever he can. Richie is a better kisser now, too. 

Eddie’s shorter by a few inches but he’s got the muscle to make up for it, and he backs Richie up until Richie is pressed flat against the door and Eddie can crowd in his space. He’s not sure what he feels more desperate to grab hold of, Richie’s shoulders or Richie’s hair or Richie’s side or  _ Richie Richie Richie.  _ It’s all-consuming, this fire inside of him, in a way that it never was before. This could eat Eddie up.

In a fit of insanity or maybe even bravery, Eddie presses his tongue to the seam of Richie’s lips and licks his way into Richie’s mouth. It’s a hot press of tongue against his, coupled with the desperate, startled gasp that Richie lets out. It’s good. It’s really good. Eddie’s never focused much on the logistics of kissing. He knows what feels good. He knows what he likes. He bites lightly on Richie’s lower lip and groans out loud when Richie returns the favor.

He feels fevered, consumed. There’s a fire inside of him and he’s a wheatfield just waiting for it to demolish him. Richie’s hands clasp his hips again and tug him closer. Eddie slots his thigh between Richie’s and draws a gasp from both of them. He presses up just a little bit more, changing the angle and allowing them both to, somehow, turn the kiss even filthier. Eddie’s being kissed within an inch of his fucking life. Hell, Eddie’s kissing like this is the last time he’ll ever be able to touch someone. The last time he’ll be able to feel the warm, reassuring feel of Richie’s body under his hands. And—

Eddie jerks back suddenly. The fire within him is still burning. Eddie thinks it will continue to burn until it eats him up. But panic races through him, too, and it  _ hurts  _ now. It hurts.

“Richie,” Eddie gasps out. He stumbles out of Richie’s grasp. Almost of its own accord, his hand comes up to touch his lip. Kiss-swollen and wet. Eddie’s eyes are wide. Richie’s chest is heaving, out of breath. He’s so fucking  _ broad.  _ Eddie’s mind is filled with static.

Richie takes a step forward. Eddie flinches back. Richie’s face falls. “Eds—”

“No,” Eddie says sharply. “No. I don’t—I can’t. Richie, I…”

“Eds,” Richie says again, desperate.

Eddie takes another step backwards, then another, until his knee bumps into the couch and a strangled noise comes out of his throat. “It’s Eddie,” he snaps. He’s finally able to tear his gaze away from Richie, feeling desperate and uncontained. His keys are on the ground near the door. The door that Richie is standing in front of, practically barricading, he’s so goddamn  _ big— _

“Can we just  _ talk  _ about this?” Richie asks. He moves towards Eddie again and there it is, the opening Eddie needs to get through the door.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Eddie bursts out. It’s bubbling out of him. Richie takes another step forward.

“You kissed  _ me,  _ dude!”

Panic swells in Eddie’s gut. He makes his move towards the door, bending down to grab his keys then yanking the front door open. Richie grabs his forearm before he can make a clean break. “I  _ can’t,  _ Richie!” Eddie shouts. He yanks his arm free and stumbles down the porch steps, not even bothering to shut the door and knowing it would be futile anyway. Richie’s heavy footsteps come thundering after him. “I can’t! Jesus Christ, it’s been twelve years, it’s—”

“Eddie, fucking, stop!” Richie snaps.

“I can’t fucking be here,” Eddie gasps out. His car keys slip out of his hands and tumble to the ground before he can put the key in the lock and get into his car. “You can’t. Richie, you have to leave. Why are you even—why are you fucking  _ here?  _ It’s been twelve goddamn years!”

Richie doesn’t follow Eddie, stopping where his gravel driveway meets the grass. “Because it’s been twelve years,” Richie says helplessly. “It’s been twelve years, I haven’t. We haven’t seen each other in twelve years, I wanted—I don’t fucking know,  _ Jesus, _ Eddie, maybe I wanted to talk to you! We were best friends once, weren’t we?”

“Best friends!” Eddie cries out. He finally gets his key jammed into the car and he yanks the door open. “We  _ were  _ best friends but you fucking—you  _ left,  _ Richie, you just left me there! You just. You kissed me and you kissed me and  _ you kissed me  _ and then you woke up and decided that I wasn’t worth hanging around for! I can’t fucking. I can’t breathe, I can’t do this, you. You have to go. You can’t stay here, you have to go.”

“I’ll go back to Patty’s, I won’t stay here—” Richie starts.

Eddie chokes on his own frustration. “No, you can’t,” he tries to say. “You can’t be here, you can’t. This town isn’t for you, Richie, it’s mine, it’s my town, I can’t. You can’t be here, you have to go.  _ Please,  _ you have to go.”

Eddie climbs into his car. The key sticks in the ignition when he tries to turn it. He lets out a frustrated yell. Tears he didn’t realize he was crying fall into his mouth.

“I’ll be over at Esther’s,” Richie says. Eddie slams his car door shut, so he can’t hear Richie as well. His engine turns over twice before kicking on. His tires kick up gravel as he reverses quickly out of the driveway. Richie follows him halfheartedly. Eddie finally allows himself to look at Richie. There’s hurt in his expression that Eddie can’t stand to see.

He tears his gaze away again and focuses on the road ahead. He blinks around the tears in his eyes to clear his vision, and he drives until he can’t see Richie in his rearview mirror anymore.

  
  
  
  


There’s a small dock, mostly obscured by trees, that had been nearly fully decayed by the time Eddie had found it, about six months after he moved to town. He went back a few times, cautiously. Afraid someone would catch him and run him off the property. Eventually it became clear no one remembered this place existed, or if they did, no one cared enough to notice. It took him another two months to decide he wanted to repair it.

Since then, it’s become a private escape. Hidden from tourists and even from neighbor’s eyes. Shrouded by trees and raspberry bushes. Eddie parks his car about fifty feet from the dock. He turns off the ignition and sits back. His face is sticky with dried tears that he wipes at halfheartedly. There’s a bone deep exhaustion that comes off of him in waves.

But it’s a beautiful day. Eddie makes his way to the edge of the dock. Distantly, he can hear the sounds of families playing on the tourist beach about a quarter mile down the road. Someone tumbles off a waverunner further in the lake, and her delighted, startled laughter echoes throughout town. Eddie toes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his pants. The water is cold when he puts his feet in. He lifts his face to the sky and closes his eyes.

The sun breaks through the branches of the trees every now and then, casting a warm light on his face. The sticky-sweet smell of raspberries carries on the breeze. Eddie rolls up the sleeves of his t-shirt.

He comes here to think. He comes here to be alone. But he’s always alone, isn’t he? Isn’t that just it? He has people in this town. He’s got Esther. He’s got people who ask him to do jobs, and grocers who smile at him when he drives by, and servers at the diner who know him by name. But he’s alone. And he’s been alone ever since he moved. Hell, since even before that. Ever since whatever tentative thing Richie and Eddie had had twelve years ago went and crumbled to fucking dust.

And what the hell was he  _ thinking  _ today? What the hell came over him so suddenly and vastly that he was certain he was going to die unless he kissed Richie again?

He doesn’t feel any calmer. It scares him. This fire inside of him is going to burn down this beautiful, calm place he’s made his home. This is why Richie can’t stay here. This is why they can’t—why they aren’t  _ good  _ for one another. Destructive. Consuming. Eddie can’t breathe. He feels like he’s not going to be able to breathe again unless he’s got Richie by his side. It doesn’t make sense, because Eddie couldn’t breathe when Richie  _ was  _ in front of him. He couldn’t breathe when his hands were on Richie’s body. He couldn’t breathe when Richie kissed him back.

A small wave laps at his legs. The bottom of his pants are wet now. Eddie kicks his feet a little.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

He’s not sure how long he sits there. Long enough for the summer-sweet smell in the breeze to be replaced by the smell of barbequers starting up. Long enough for the sun to shift enough that it no longer catches through the branches. Long enough that, after an indeterminable time of quiet, the silence is broken by the sound of tires pulling up next to his car.

Eddie opens his eyes and turns around.

Patty stands at the start of the dock. Her skirt billows around her. Her hat is crooked on her head. She gives him a gentle smile. “I wondered if I’d find you here.”

“How?” Eddie asks. She kicks off her shoes and joins him at the edge of the dock. Eddie slides over so she can sit next to him. Her toenails are painted a vibrant purple. Eddie can still see the color even when she puts her feet in the water next to him and kicks her feet back and forth.

“I used to come here,” Patty hums. She takes her hat off and places it on the dock behind them. “When things were bad, with Mom. Right after Dad passed away. I don’t even know how I found it. Biking around, probably. It was in terrible shape when I left town, though.”

Eddie smiles. “It was in worse shape when I found it.”

Patty’s laugh is a bright, lovely thing. “Yes,” she murmurs. “I suppose it was.”

The question is eating him alive, burning his throat and begging to be set free. Eddie can’t decide whether or not he’ll ask it. He drops his gaze to the water again and watches it bob up and down, rocked by the motion much farther out on the lake.

“You know, I’ve known Richie for a little while,” Patty says conversationally. Eddie doesn’t look up at her. “He’s a good guy. A little misguided, but he’s doing his best. And he’s funny. He thinks he’s happy. I think he’s not.”

Eddie makes an acknowledging sound. He wonders if Patty can see the tense line in his shoulders.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she asks, like it’s an easy thing for him to answer.

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t be,” Eddie says honestly. It’s about as truthful as he can get.

Patty clicks her tongue. She takes Eddie’s hand in hers and squeezes it. “Well,” she says. “What about you, Eddie? Do you think you’re happy?”

Eddie smiles, just a bit. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t be.”

“Hm,” Patty says, in a voice that implies she doesn’t quite believe him. “I suppose that’s true for all of us.”

“Yeah.”

She looks at him for long enough he feels obligated to look back at her. Her expression is open and full of love, even though she’s just met him. Even though she knows nothing about him except for the small information offered up in a tense car ride. She smiles at him like she loves him already. Hell, maybe she does. She’s so similar to Esther, it makes Eddie’s heart ache.

“I think you deserve it, you know,” she says finally. “Happiness.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh,” he murmurs. “I… yeah. I think. I think I agree.”

Patty squeezes his hand. They’ve only just met, but she rests her head on his shoulder. Eddie feels like he’s known her his whole life. He thinks this must be what it is like to have a sister. He lets his head rest against hers and closes his eyes once again.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE) if you want to come say hello!


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